


Not Really

by ThePunkiest



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-18
Updated: 2016-08-18
Packaged: 2018-08-09 12:57:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7802734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThePunkiest/pseuds/ThePunkiest





	Not Really

"Ya know kid," he said, plopping down beside me on the edge of my bed, "even though it hurts, it'll stop one day." I pursed my lips and looked down to my floor, which was desperately in need of a cleaning. He was right, I knew that, but it didn't matter. My hands, which were clasped in my lap, tightened. He glanced to the skin of my knuckles, paled white from the pressure. "Sometimes," he said, sliding off his hoodie, "sometimes, there's nothing you can do to stop feeling bad. And there's nothing you can do to stop what you know is gonna happen. And it's okay to be scared of that, it's okay to be scared of the future, and being alone. Hell," he muttered, sliding his hoodie over my shoulders, "I live in constant fear that everything I love, everything I cherish and care about, will disappear in a blink of an eye, and it'll never come back.

And I know you're scared of that, too, Tiny," he said. My teeth clenched as I tried to push down the knot developing in my throat. I blinked, trying to chase away tears that had no place in my eyes. Slowly, Sans slid his arm around my back, his hand coming to rest on my shoulder. With a gentle tug, my opposite shoulder touched his. The knot in my throat hurt as I tried to speak.

"Everything around me is dying, Sans," I said, my voice croaking and my tears falling to my cheeks, "Soon, I'll be alone forever, and nobody I know can help me, because they don't know what it's like, and I don't want to be alone. I can't _save anything,"_ I choked out, my voice breaking, and I crumbled. The tears flowed from my eyes like blood from a freshly cut wound, and I pressed my fingertips to the bags that lived under them. "I can't _do anything_ to help _anyone,_ but I can't talk to anybody about it, because they _don't want to hear it..._ " I whispered, rubbing the tears from my cheeks, "And I don't want to bother my friends about anything, because I can tell they don't know what to say." I looked down to my bare feet, still dirty from the grave I had dug for my dog a few days back. Everything hurt.

And I couldn't do anything about it.

 


End file.
